Therapy is the quickest hour of the day
Going against the grain here saying, I LOVE therapy. (Having a good therapist close to home being a given. Therapy is awful if your therapist is awful).
Not only is recalling my life’s tragedies a great warm up for my memoir writing - which I’m thusly 10000 words into ;)
But it’s also a great way to gage audience engagement.
I’ve become a pro at telling my stories over and over, to the whole of the CAMH’s, again and again and again… and every time I do, if they’re a good therapist they will add something to it, a psychological explanation or their point of view. Which educates and informs how I think about the experience more.
Today my therapist told me I am so eloquent with my words and she finds the way I smile and laugh while I talk about my most horrific traumas “chilling” -
“If I don’t laugh I’ll cry” I explain to her.
I hate how fast that hour passes. It feels like simply seconds pass between me taking my blue fur coat off and putting it back on again.
To rush back home, as I’ve put myself on house arrest these past few days I’m preparation of my flight on Thursday! Because my body has been so run down with what feels too serious to be hay fever, but not serious enough to be a virus? Who knows!
Before I started learning to drive I’d have these dreams, where I’d be driving in a car that had no breaks (what a metaphor for life, eh). No but in all seriousness, these dreams were re-occurring and becoming quite nightmarish! Putting me in dangerous situations I’d wake up from sign a raving heart and dry throat.
- These dreams have stopped since I’ve started driving in real cars with breaks.
Learning to drive was something I always knew I wanted to do, but like most things I had to build up confidence before I could even google ‘driving instructors London’.
I’m actually incredibly proud of myself for not only getting my shit together during a depressive episode to find an adequate, female driving instructor. But that I’ve actually followed through with it all and most importantly, I love it. Maybe in a slightly problematic way I love how fast the car goes with just a little pressure. I didn’t know cars were so delicate! I thought they’d require a lot more toughness. The way I thought about cars is now I imagine men think about women’s bodies lol. Because let me tell you, learning to clutch, accelerate in my mums ten year old car with a dodgy clutch is exactly like truing to find the clit and then work out how to please her. The cars clutch is deffo the cars clit. Just saying.
I’ve now completed my pre-trip buying, laundry, packing and planning. I’ve had manicures, bleached my teeth and tomorrow morning I’ll shave my entire body below the eye brows. I’ve planned as much as I possibly can to satiate my ever hungry anxiety. I had a bit of a wobble the other day re planning my trip and I feel really upset that I got to upset. As I’d gone a week without crying and that’s a streak I always hate to break. But I’m feeling a lot better now thankfully, especially since I just had therapy.
The only thing I have to worry about the rest of today is having a bubble bath and getting a lovely dinner together. Im thinking one of those M&S plant kitchen vegan steak pies - they’re so good!! With gravy and greens. See skinny girls do eat!!! In fact I’ve actually become a bit obsessed with granola recently. With cold almond milk.